


A Girl in a Cute Sweater

by Barkour



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crushes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junkrat has lots of feelings! He can even express them in creative ways!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Girl in a Cute Sweater

Here came Mei in a fuzzy, blue sweater and thick leggings with bouncy little pom poms at the ankles. Junkrat sank away in a sort of terror that manifested in his stomach clenching and his heart booming and his skin going hot all over. The common room's lights glinted off her glasses as she adjusted them.

"Bombs belong in the workshop," she scolded in passing. It was never a simple hello with her. 

"None of 'em are live," he said. "And this is a shared space, so I'm sharing!"

Mei, who lorded her six years over him mostly by calling him _a little boy_ , clucked her tongue. Her hair piece chimed as she shook her head. 

Clutching the guts of his newest darling close to his chest, Junkrat swung around in the couch to peep over the back of it at her. His left hand sweated. 

She was primping before one of the mirrors. Jet drops swung from her ears. The sweater clung to and made heavier seeming all her substantial curves. Mei looked even softer than she usually looked. He'd a powerful need to start tossing cherry bombs. That way Mei would look around at him again. Mercy said Junkrat needed to learn how to express his feelings; what was more expressive than a good pop and smoke? 

"And where are you going all swanned up?" Junkrat ventured. His fingers tick-ticked at the IED shell. "Off to make goody-goody with some poor widdle, wost penguins?"

Mei shook her hair out. She'd done it up in some pretty little bun high up with a long, smooth black curtain of hair tumbling down her nape. The ornament hung heavy with charms. Shiny stuff, a decent handful of trinkets. 

She tsked him again but didn't look away from the mirror. "No, Jamison." Mei said his name as if it were a child's name. "And my work is very important, so please, don't tease me."

He scowled and sat up higher, slinging his metal arm over the back of the couch. Mockingly he said, "Ooo, you're giving me the shivers. Really cut into me."

She turned, chiming again, to look at him. Her cheeks rounded; her pinked lips pursed out. She looked rakingly over him, from the tip-top of his noggin to his bare and blistered chest. Her face went red as a firecracker.

"Good!" said Mei. "Then maybe you'll finally put on a shirt!"

"Or maybe I'll just borrow your coat!"

"It would not fit you," she said, "you're too tall."

"Hey, you're the little one," he said. "Little, soft Mei. Oi!" he called after her. "You never said where you were going to kitted up like--" He gestured, finger joints creaking. Needed a good oiling, the right hand did.

Mei paused at the door that led to the main corridor of the compound. She looked tremendously annoyed, as she always looked around Junkrat, when he hardly ever did anything to annoy her.

"Like what, Jamison?" she said. "Like a roly-poly? Like a fat little penguin?"

"'Ey!" he said, indignant. "I like the tubby girls. All soft and huggable and good to squeeze--"

Mei said, "Oh!" sounding even more outraged somehow.

Junkrat hurried to smooth it over; he was a fine diplomat if he said so. "It means you're healthy, got some meat on your bones. All you got back home's bone-yards in old rags, no one you'd want to bog in on."

"Oh! Those poor girls," Mei cried, suddenly stomping back toward him, "and here you are speaking of them like they weren't even worth looking at."

"Wai-what?" said Junkrat. He leaned back as she drew nearer to the couch. There was something unexpectedly terrifying about Mei zeroing in on him like that. "No, what I meant was-- If, ah, you'd let me clarify-- What I was meaning to say was--"

He dropped the precious work in progress on the cushions as he dropped, clutching the couch back with both hands and sinking so only his eyes showed over. Mei managed to tower over him thusly. Junkrat's heart gave a horrible pitter patter.

"You have no business talking of women's bodies," she said. "Or comparing them! Not when you've no idea what it's like, how the whole world looks at your body."

Still cringing, he said, "Got a little bit of an idea, " and he waggled the groaning fingers of his right hand.

Mei's eyes crossed behind her glasses as she looked at his hand. Very quickly Junkrat laid them flat on the couch back. He tried on a rakish kind of grin in the hopes it might distract her long enough he could toss those cherry bombs after all and make a run for it.

"Now Mei," he said, "let's both be calm, reasonable sorts here..." as he snuck his flesh hand down to feel in his trouser pocket for a cherry or four.

Mei said, "I'm-- I'm very sorry, Junkrat!" She made an abortive gesture, like she meant to clasp his false hand then remembered herself. "I forgot, and that was very rude, and ignorant of me."

Junkrat stared at her. This was even more terrifying. Mei had never apologized to him before, although he had heard her apologize often to everyone else. His gut flipped itself over. He'd a feeling like he meant to barf. He hadn't had that feeling since Ol' Wrecker took the right arm clean off at the elbow.

She looked earnestly at him, her eyes huge and dark, lashes black and wide-spread. "But if you know what it's like for people to stare, then you must remember that when you speak of others' bodies."

"I don't mind if they stare," he blabbered, "means they're easier to pull the wool over, do the ol' lost me hand trick--"

Mei sighed. "And now you're just the little boy again. When will you grow up, Jamison?"

"I am grown-up," he protested. "Not getting much taller than this. 'less I cut off the other foot and start carrying about on stilts." The idea intrigued him. "Wire fuel lines in 'em..."

"If you're going to amputate, then do it in the workshop," said Mei firmly. "I'm tired of cleaning up your messes!" 

"Nobody said you had to clean up after me," Junkrat shouted after her. "You're no cook of mine."

Mei spun about a final time to look at him, and he nearly jumped, certain she'd understood. But she only pursed her lips again. That luscious fall of gleaming black hair swept her shoulder. Junkrat admired the near artistic way the sweater clung to her breasts. She'd a hell of a set. Made a man feel like drowning himself in some ice water. It gave him the chills all over.

"And for your information," said Mei, enunciating each word with such precise care, her lips rounding pertly, "I have a date."

"A wot!" said Junkrat. Fantasies of diving face first into a snow drift burst to steam before his very eyes.

"With a very mature man," she added, looking smug. 

He stared, speechless, at Mei as she pulled on her brown-furred boots and stepped out the door. It was as if she'd made him lick freezer ice. At last, with a powerful shudder, he thawed.

"Oi!" Junkrat said to the door. "I'm a man!"

He thought about Mei in that fluffy sweater and those cute leggings with the pom-poms, out on a fancy date with some whacka in a fine suit who donated money to nature reserves or something stupid like that, Mei smiling at him with her round cheeks dimpling! Saying please and thank you! Holding his hand, even! Asking him his opinions on the state of the global economy! Jamie had loads of opinions on the global economy! Most of them were that he ought to be in charge of it! 

"Right, that's it," said Junkrat, "Roadhog! Get out here, you bludger! We're field testing the new explosives! I've got feelings to express!"

**Author's Note:**

> "cook" being slang for "wife." please delete &/or stop me


End file.
